


MUG 101: Introduction to Muggle Studies

by NyuNeon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, I Blame Tumblr, Lord of the Ring references, Muggle Struggle AU, Romance, muggleborn reader, pretend to be british
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyuNeon/pseuds/NyuNeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco scoffs, not even understanding why it was part of his electives. Even though it was his first year in Hogwarts, he should at least have the right to choose. His father will hear of this. But regardless, it seems that he'll be forced to stay here for the semester. Much more preferable then speaking with Snape voluntarily. </p><p>Dipping his quill in the inkwell, he proceeds to write above a piece of paper, fulfilling the Professor's wishes half-heartily. Of course. It was just stupid ice breakers to get to know people. Why do they even bother? Once again, he dips his quill into the ink, but suddenly he stops mid-way.</p><p>Turning his head to you, he watches you write on your paper without pause. </p><p>"What is that?" he points to your featherless quill. Amazingly enough, not once have you ever dipped it into the inkwell even though you were already proceeding to the third question. It's almost as though it had an endless amount of ink. How convenient. He must ask what kind of spell it was...</p><p>"Uh..." you answered, albeit very awkwardly, "A pen?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unlikely Competition

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. Thanks for reading. I really appreciate it. After all, it's my first work I have decided to post here. Hopefully it reaches your expectations, if not beyond it. So this plot bunny has been wandering around my mind for a long time. A lot of prompts really indulged me to this moment, so indeed it was enjoyable for me to write. This first chapter, however, is merely the beginning. A way to introduce you, and that special moment of you receiving the acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Honestly, I never really expected it would be so humorous the way I first began to write it. 
> 
> And of course, the following writing is a piece of fan work, not in any way declaring ownership for the series. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The letter came just five moments ago, along with the other collected bills that your parents have been racking up. What separates that letter between those regular junk mail and this single invitation, is surprisingly, its mail carrier-- an owl of all things. Even the post man had difficulty not to stare at the ash colored bird, perched on your mail box so casually.

"I… I think that's for you," the mail carrier spoke up.

You stared at it, slightly unnerved as well. "The owl?"

It'd be cool to have a pet owl, but you don't know how well your current beloved pet would be able to handle a bird of prey. Should you separate them in another room? Give the owl to your siblings? You consider the solutions that run through your head, but it wasn't long until you were soon interrupted.

"No. That," he said, pointing at a parchment attached to its talons. Your name was emblazoned on it in the finest calligraphy you've seen. In fact, you considered it to be a form of art since you laid eyes on it.

You deadpanned, "Oh. I see."

Although, you were only twelve at the time, your composure is quite admirable despite the circumstances of this unexpected surprise. Or at least, that's what the postal worker had thought. In reality, you're just too shocked that some bird had delivered you a letter. This kind of information just comes straight through you, your brain won’t bother to absorb the data at all. After all, this sort of delivering method was dated to only exist in the darker ages of Europe!

You inhale sharply, staring at the owl preening itself, "I honestly even didn't know the post office had this sort of competition. Do try to keep up."  

The post man sweatdropped, "I-I'll keep it in mind…"

Without hesitation, you soldier on. Although you do admit that you had flinched when you moved your hand closer to the letter, but to your surprise, the owl just watched you intently. It had even released the parchment from its grasp once you took hold of it.

The post man whistles, impressed, “So it’s a trained birdy.”

“If you didn’t think the pigeon mail medieval enough, just look at the letter,” you scantered, turning it over, “There’s a wax seal. Why is there a wax seal? I'm an eleven year old kid. Who do I know has wax seals? I feel that this is too classy for the likes of me. Hey, postman, sir? Do you recognize it?”

Upon closer inspection, the red seal was intricate, to say the least. Down to its very edges, its monogrammed center led a very bold and elegant appearance. A simple letter H was enough to make an impressionable moment. Though it rendered you silent, the adult man doesn’t seem to be as mesmerized by it as you were.

“No, can’t say that I have,” the post man scratches his chin, unable to recall.  

Turning the letter over, you read the beautiful calligraphy once more. This time, you carefully read each word. Your name. Your address. Nothing looked out of place. It didn’t look printed either, surprisingly. A personal letter, maybe? But who would spend so much time making that perfect loop around that letter g? Moving your attention to the top left corner of the envelope, you find yourself really taken aback. Tilting your head quizzically, you proceed to respond to the postal office worker, “Same. What the bloody hell is Hogwarts anyway?”

“I don’t rightly know,” he shrugs, just as clueless as you were, “Why are you asking your friendly neighborhood post man?”

Oh? How strange…

“You’re an adult right? I though adults knew everything.”

The post man pressed his lips together, unknowingly putting himself in a rather difficult situation. You were only twelve years old, but weren’t twelve year olds beginning to realize things that they never really wanted to learn in the first place at this stage? Like the pressure in society to conform. Or the possibility of having your dreams crushed because of reality. Yea, stuff like that.  

“I’m sorry, but I’m only just 27 years old. I only needed this job because apparently my £40,000 fee for my degree isn’t enough for me to get the job I wanted. I don’t know how to adult.”

You stare at the post man for a good minute, the silence was simply deadly. The post man was nearly startled after you bluntly spoke up.  

“That got 0 to too real, way too fast.”


	2. The Unforeseen Seer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father is a good man.  
> He showers you with sweet forehead kisses.  
> He works two jobs to keep you in school.  
> He sends you the love of both him and your mother.  
> He does everything in his power to give you the circumstances he never had.  
> And you can't help but realize that he's living in them. 
> 
> These are the circumstances of you.  
> The one in which the owls chose.

When you were young, you were systematically taught on what to do when you find yourself lost. Hug a tree, ask help from a police officer, and call your dad with his number written in the inside of your left shoe. Somehow within that order. However, it seems you weren’t the one who was lost this time. It was your father, sadly enough. Lost almost immediately amongst the crowd.

Though he had aged well, his experience in life has yet to redeem him. To be honest, he was a bit of tosser, really. You do admit that you dearly love him, but his child like personality makes it hard for you to recognize him as a dad-like figure. After all you wouldn’t be searching so fervently for him in a whimsical place called Diagon Alley.  


“Apologize love, but we might have to split if we want to find your father…” Madam Sprout’s gentle voice surfaces among the lively crowd.  


She was an elder woman, her gray short curly hair getting the best of her. Wearing strange muted brown garments, her most striking feature was the stereotypical witches hat that you swore would stay on her even in a middle of a cyclone. You refused to ask what she’s doing carrying a stick in her belt, but you can naturally assume from the course of nature lately. She says she’s around her late sixties, but you were unable to contain your shock and said she didn’t look a day over fifty. Sprout laughs, appreciating the compliment.  


Now would be good time to remind yourself that she came along with the owl. A two for one deal, you suppose. It had to do with somehow reassuring her parent/guardian about the sudden explanation and concealment of the magical society right under everyone’s noses. Apparently, she was also a professor, perhaps your future professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many would have been skeptical about this whole “magic academy” down by Scotland; however, you had no comment, other than your father’s quick embrace of the subject was unforeseen.  


So basically, Gandalf now exists.  


“Phenomenal,” you clicked your tongue, impatient with your grown-adult, “I should have known better to bring him along. He nearly fainted when he met Elijah Wood-- the man was merely shopping for junk food. I had to drag my parent out and fan him with a newspaper.”  


A funny story to be saved for a later date. Although granted, you didn’t come out without nothing. It’s not every day you can say that Frodo bought you a few Cadbury Eggs.  


“-And to suddenly be enlightened that his dream world exists? I can’t laugh at the fact that his dying wish is to make sure I become the next white wizard,” you almost chuckled. Keyword being almost; however, you are far too keen on trying to not get lost yourself in the wildly populated area. Bustling with life, there was not a single moment of silence as you stood central of the weathered brick street. The sound of owls hooting loudly, the back to school sales for brooms, and other sounds that you’d never imagine would be plausible to hear in modern day London- all of which kindly flooded your ears like a lucid dream.  


…but, oh, how you wish it was.  


“Don’t worry, dear,” Madame Sprout reassures you, “Most children get the dreaded butterflies whenever they transfer to a new school. Even children who has always have known about their bloodline. Your situation is not new.”  


“Oh, yes of course,” You rolled your eyes, not easy to succumb to her false comforts “I suppose it's a normal occurrence when the garden suddenly becomes hentai tentacles. Totally normal when it swings me around like some bloody towel.”  


Damn, so salty. You wouldn’t be in such a bad mood if it weren’t for the fact that your father proceeded to adopt the darn thing. Now it’s somehow taking care of the house as we go back-to-school shopping. Unlike you with your unnecessary sarcasm, Madame Sprout chuckles lightly, idly pushing aside your passive-aggressiveness. She seems rather relaxed, happy to have another student join the ranks of Hogwarts.  


“Normally I would change it back,” Madame Sprout explains herself, “…but your father insisted.”  


You sighed, not wanting to remember.  


After all, you never wanted to be here. [1]  


You never wanted to be here in Diagon Alley, shopping for bathrobes and weird titled books. You never wanted to leave your friends, to attend some unknown school you have never heard of until now and make new friends. You never wanted to attend a proper magical-institution to control some skill you never knew you had nor witnessed. You never wanted to let your father to take on two jobs to afford such an expensive boarding school. You simply never wanted to go to Hogwartz. 

And it shows. 

Feeling a bit sorry, Madame Sprout reaches into her jacket pocket, obtaining a twine pouch, small enough to fit into a child’s hands. She drops it gently to your palms with the weight slightly surprising you. It was much heavier than you thought it’d be. Was it some sort of metal she stuck inside?  


Curious, you pulled the string off. It was pure gold and silver.  


Your jaw gaped, cold sweat dripping down the back of your neck. You never thought you’d carry something like this within your lifetime. Your brain signals tell you that you should not be holding this in your hand.  


“I-I…” your words turn into useless sputters. You don’t know what to say. So you spewed the next best thing you could say from your mouth.  


“…Are you bribing me?” It just wasn’t intelligent, you’ll admit, “To go to school? I’m flattered, I suppose, but-”  


“Oh goodness me, no,” Madame Sprout stops you on your trail, preventing you from speaking any further, “They’re mostly sickles and a few galleons. I just thought you might want to spend some time marauding about. It’s not often that… a child learns of their dormant talents. Are you sure you’ve never had any signs before that made you think that maybe, just maybe you’re a bit different to the people around you?”  


What a curious question.  


“No. Not really. The owl was a tad bit strange, but no.”  


Madame Sprout was truly a kind and inviting person. You regret backlashing at her at your own contempt. It was uncalled for. Usually, you mended well to the people who surrounded you. Some may call you fake, but you understood that people have different comfort levels and you dare not trespass beyond it. Two-faced, maybe, but neither of them was a bitch. That was just your resting face.  


“Strange,” she ponders, while searching in the crowd to find the lost father, “Most children your age have at least unintentionally made things float once or twice. An inevitable, awry situation.”  


You tie the string back on the tweed money pouch, glancing up at Sprout with a conflicting smile.  


“Perhaps you’ve sent your owl to the wrong person.”  


Sprout was quick to frown, unpleased with your negativity. She easily waved away your doubts off her shoulders, “Hosh posh. The owls don’t send letters to those who don’t deserve it. Since your birth, it was already decided that you were destined to attend. [2] Now go look around and buy what you like, while I’ll go look for your father,” you catch her small mumbles as she drifts off, “Lest he becomes a side show for the wizards.”  


You saw Pomona Sprout leave you behind. Only a bag of foreign currency was left at hand. Sighing, you let the pouch hang in your fingers as you quietly remarked how much gold would equate to a cone of ice cream. She forgets that you are not quite sure how galleons and sickles work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Alright, this was probably my biggest issue as to why I had such difficulty in posting this chapter. The way this chapter started was supposed to be right after you received the acceptance letter and you meet Pomona Sprout, but I scrapped that because you guys are likely to have seen this before. I don’t want you guys to go through my poor excuse of a bad copy and paste, so I scrapped it, rewritten the entire thing, and decided that you should experience something new, but something plausible. So I made you hate Hogwartz. :D  
> [2] Interesting tid-bit for those who don’t know: those who have magical ability have already been decided by birth and are written down into the Book of Admittance with the Quill of Acceptance. The quill writes anyone with even the slightest hint of magical ability, but the book would shut itself unless the child has shown evidence that they have manifested their magical ability. Bless the HP Wiki.  
>  _Other Notes:_  
>  Forgive me, my lovely commenters, my lovely kudosers, and all my lovely readers for being so late with this one. I should have not prolonged this chapter, but my seriousness on this fic has been questioned several times over. I originally envisioned it to be something relatively simple with no chapter over 1000 words, but this one chapter changed that. I’ve rewritten it twice in hopes that you’ll guys find it acceptable. I hope you have enjoyed it, as much as I did. Bless you guys. :D  
> One of the key things I have changed here, by the way, is that I once considered Snape to be your mentor for a long while, because he’s a stale cinnamon roll— has been too exposed to the word. Too cynical. But I decided to stick with Pomona for reasons. Trust me, I’m pretending to be a genius.  
> There’s so much in this chapter, not just lengthwise but so much— possibilities? I know you guys are smart enough to find them, but perhaps it will take a while when all chapters have been released. In the mean time, have fun. c;


End file.
